Wicked
by Syn2
Summary: Ginny wants to be bad. And Draco wants to help.


Title: Wicked  
  
Author: Syn  
  
E-mail: veruca_werewolf@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R--nothing explicit though.  
  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
  
Content: Draco/Dark!Ginny  
  
Spoilers: OotP, I guess.  
  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books and Warner Bros., Inc.  
  
Summary: Ginny wants to be wicked and Draco wants to help.  
  
A/N: Short little ficlet set in Ginny's fifth year. I'm working on a longer Dark!Ginny/Draco story and I decided to cut my teeth on it a little first.   
  
Feedback: I would enjoy it muchly, if you please.   
  
****  
  
Ginny. He'd been following her for ten minutes, slipping through corridors, watching her, always behind. And now he had her cornered. No way out.   
  
She stood in the Owlery, writing something in a hurried hand, lip tucked between her teeth and looking much more innocent than he knew her to be.   
  
He knew things about her. Things precious Potter and her dumb brothers couldn't possibly see. Not even that clever Mudblood Granger. They were all blind to what was before their very eyes.   
  
Draco knew darkness when he saw it, and it clung to her like a cloak.   
  
He watched as she finished tying on her letter and flung out her arm, a handsome screech owl launching from her wrist and disappearing through a hole in the ceiling. She watched it go with a cocked head and then turned toward him.   
  
She didn't looked shocked or surprised. She must have known he was there.   
  
"Who was that for?"   
  
He blocked her path with a just-so shift of his eyes, hips cocked, wrists pale, contrasting with the starched cuffs of his shirt and the velveteen black of his robes. His wand twirled in his fingers.   
  
She, she glowered, sherry-brown eyes dancing with flames. The torch on the wall cast dark shadows across her face. He counted each freckle, like stars in the heavens.   
  
"What do you want?" No cowering, no quivering.   
  
"You're in my way, Weasley." He drawled, lazy as a white tiger, twirling his wand in his fingers. It spun like a compass needle, a whir in his spidery fingers.   
  
"Go around." She was not one to take threats. The owls hooted and flapped around them, sensing the uneasiness in the air.   
  
"Maybe I'll go through you." He suggested with an almost bored yawn in his voice. Baiting her, weighing her. And waiting for it...her wicked shadow.   
  
"I'd like to see you try it, Malfoy." She rose to the occasion magnificently, delicate chin lifting, hair shaken back from the smooth contours of her face.   
  
The corners of his mouth twitched and then he reached, grabbing her shoulders. He spun her, knocked her against the wall, watching her hair as it waved, desperate slashes of blood against Hogwarts stone.   
  
It swirled. Made phantom shapes in the air. He was bewitched. Had to be. Several owls hooted at the disturbance.   
  
He hated her. Saw her for what she was. No one else could--they couldn't look with their eyes and see what he knew was there; simmering below the surface, overshadowing the girl she'd been before. Long before.   
  
"Are you going to hurt me, then?" She said, corners of her mouth curling upward, the white flash of her teeth and the slide of her pink tongue across her teeth making his groin harden despite himself. She wanted it.   
  
"I could. I could do whatever I wanted."   
  
"And do you think I would let you?" Her eyes were on his, connected, savagely brutal. Even he flinched from the dead-dark pain of her eyes, where something else lurked just below the surface. It ached to be free of her and she ached to keep it in.   
  
He leant in close, his mouth hovering beside her ear.   
  
"I know what you want, Virginia."   
  
"To be rid of you? You've been stalking me for months now. Pathetic..."   
  
"You want to be wicked." He ignored her and plowed on; measuring her with all the careful cruelty he could muster against the force of her shadow. She laughed, a throaty chuckle.   
  
"Wicked with you, Draco?" The way she said it made his guts twist and the coldness he prided as part of himself leeched from him to her. So cold, so cold. Her whole demeanor suddenly changed. "But I'm a good girl."   
  
She was anything but a good girl. He had seen that before, at the beginning of the school year when he'd walked in on her and that Thomas bloke. Pawing and panting. And he, he'd been stunned. And drawn to her. She'd only smiled, thanked him for the Detention he handed out and pulled her robes back on while Thomas had looked on the verge of passing out.   
  
Something hard suddenly slid up his neck, just below his ear and he was called back to the present. It was her wand, cradled against his neck like a sharp, deadly dagger. His own wand was at her chest, pressed between each firm breast, awaiting a muttered word from his mouth.   
  
"Going to use that, on me, witch?"   
  
"I might." She said offhand, blinking sleepily in the torchlight.   
  
"Who was the letter for?" He prompted suddenly. She shrugged boredly.   
  
"My mother."   
  
"And does she know? Does anyone know how you truly are?"   
  
"I can't be bothered with caring very much. They don't know me. They don't care to." Her freckled features are haunted by the words for a split second before being wiped away by his words.   
  
"And who does? You lie to everyone." He hissed the words hard in her face, but she didn't flinch.   
  
"I don't lie to you, Draco. You know what I want. And I know you want me." He opened his mouth to deny it. He didn't want her. Never would. Couldn't. But her other hand, forgotten and daring, grazed his crotch. A sharp intake of breath shattered his denial and she smiled indulgently. "Draco. Do you want me?"   
  
"Yes." He forced out through gritted teeth.   
  
"Then help me be bad."   
  
And her hand squeezed.   
  
His mercury eyes squeezed shut and he bit down on his lip, any control he thought he had merely a memory. Her laughter was like tinkling bells. His breath drew in and she let go.   
  
"How bad?"   
  
"Bad enough to make you scream."   
  
She didn't specify in ecstasy or terror and to be honest, he didn't want to know. She frightened him slightly, something that bruised his fragile sense of pride. And the darkness...that ever-present, pressing darkness that filled her eyes at times like these, the cold in her voice that sent shivers up his spine and want through his chest, it made him shake and shudder and press closer.   
  
Inside Ginny Weasley was something darker than black. She wanted things she didn't understand. She hungered for something darker, deeper than the good life she was supposed to lead. And all because of a shadow in her soul, tainting her with old memories and dark, bloody hands.   
  
And Draco Malfoy, he understood. Could see the darkness and wanted it for his own. She wanted to be wicked and he, he was more than willing to help her.   
  
"Make me bad, Draco." It wasn't a plea. She was a Dark Queen, commanding her King.   
  
He lowered his wand; she did the same a split second later. And then, he slipped his mouth over hers, taking her darkness to himself, aware that he would soon drown in it just as she was. And not caring at all.   
  
(end)   
  
**** 


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